


Sleep So Sweet my Darling Boy, You Will Rule When Earths Destoryed

by notebooksandlaptops



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Laughing Together, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Slice of Life, nanny being an a good parent but still being a bit odd, that lullaby, warlock dowlings weird upbringing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebooksandlaptops/pseuds/notebooksandlaptops
Summary: Perks of being The Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High, the Anti-Christ: the ability to control the weather, always getting exactly what you want for Christmas, your favourite couples on TV mysteriously ending up together and a man in your bed who had the weirdest upbringing because two dumbass celestial beings thought that he was you.Draw backs of being The Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High, the Anti-Christ: Occasional Nightmares about who you could have been.Good job that Warlock is there and if Adam needs a lullaby, well, Warlock's got his childhood Lullaby Nanny taught him to hand...





	Sleep So Sweet my Darling Boy, You Will Rule When Earths Destoryed

There are plenty of wonderful things about being The Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High: The Anti-Christ. A list, in no particular order may include the ability to control the weather, always getting exactly what you want for Christmas, your favourite couples on TV mysteriously ending up together and the rag tag family bonds you may or may not create with a bookworm of an angel and a horticulturalist of a demon.

Perks may also be the man in your bed who – until he was eleven – was thought to _be _the Anti-Christ and so had a very peculiar upbringing which made him the slightly-crazy-goth-kid-with-a-bit-of-a-thing-for-calling-all-bugs-‘sister’-and-‘brother’ he was today.

So, being The Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High: The Anti-Christ definitely had its advantages. Adam knew that in many ways he was awfully privileged.

But here is the thing about being The Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High: The Anti-Christ – and it’s something they don’t put on the labels.

For all the good thing, come the undeniable fact that you _are _the Anti-Christ. Adam Young was born as the ultimate product of Hell and maybe that wasn’t what he had grown into thanks to a quick mix up at birth, but it was what he had intended to be and for a while back when he was eleven it had been a tad touch and go on which side he would fall.

So yes, he now had a cottage, a bed with a beautiful man he loved in it, two eccentric uncles who never failed to spice things up, three wonderful friends who’d faced down the four horse men by his side and – on top of it all – a lovely job down at the village bakery.

But at night things could…pile up.

_…Satan, death, war, famine, pollution and worst of all Him. Adam. The Anti-Christ. Destroyer of Worlds, Angel of Darkness, Master of the Pit, Spawn of Satan on High: The Anti-Christ. And the bodies of his friends on the floor of the airfield. Why did he need them? He had so much power! All the power in the world was corsing through his veins. He could do anything. Make the world anything he saw fit…_

“Adam-“

_…”I’ll make new friends then! screamed in their hide away, the woods swallowing up the sounds of his voice, echoing, echoing, all over the world. The world could be like Tadfield. It could be safe. And in order for that to happen, it had to stop for a while. He had friends coming, his true real friends, his father, the horsemen…_

“Adam- wake up-“

_…He’d had the power. He could have remade everything. Done anything. Why didn’t he? Why shouldn’t he? It was his for the taking, all his…_

“Adam,”

_…the seas rose to his command, swallowed ships that dared to whale the oceans, the nuclear reactors quaked, the rainforests grew back and those that dared chop them down fell into the ground never to return…_

“Adam!”

_…people dying, people dead, everyone, everything, gone, gone, gone and it was HIM. He’d done it. He’d made it happen. His parents. His Uncles. His best friends. Pepper, Brian, Wensleydale, no, no, no, no…_

“Adam Wake up!”

Adam shot up in bed.

He was panting. Great heaving breaths that echoed around the room. Beside him he felt the mattress dip, shifting, but his mind was still full of all that aching possibility, the stuff that very nearly was, that could have been.

“Here, drink this.”

There was a glass of water in his hand, and it took him a moment to get a baring of his surroundings, to blink through what he had seen in his mind. It was just a dream, mostly. He’d chosen right at the end and put the world back into place. Now the only people who really remembered were the Them (and Uncle Crow and Uncle Az but they followed slightly different rules). Everyone else was none the wiser that the world should have by all rights already ended.

But it hadn’t. It hadn’t ended. Instead here he was. He was in the little cottage in Tadfield, where he’d stayed to live his life. There were pictures on the side, and a carpet on the floor, a plant that never wilted (gift from Uncle Crow) on the dresser. There were two bedside tables, a pile of clothes on the floor that had been heatedly discarded earlier, and a hand in his curls, twining them around his fingers.

_Warlock. _

He felt his shoulders sag, head turning to bury into Warlock’s neck.

“Shh,” Warlock murmured, voice smooth (he spoke Queens English still, which everyone blamed on the ‘Nanny’) as he pressed a kiss to Adam’s forehead. “You’re fine, Adam.”

He didn’t feel fine. He felt…out of control. But there was a reason that Warlock had stuck, wasn’t there. Warlock who had been raised as he should have been, Warlock who should have been _him _but wasn’t…that dear Warlock understood all this in his own way.

Adam could feel Warlock’s long dark hair – straightened, dyed deep black – tickling his nose as the other boy held him.

“You want to talk about it?” Warlock asked softly, after a while of basking in each other’s presence.

Adam took a deep breath “Not really. Same old same old.”

Warlock tutted softly, “You’re _good, _Adam. Who cares about titles? You did a better job than I would have done.”

Who indeed? Nobody, anymore. Not really. The world had failed to end and heaven and hell were still…there, Uncle Crow insisted, they were just unlikely to stop licking their wounds for the next few thousand years. He might be the Anti-Christ, he might even have a few of those abilities tucked up his sleeve, but when it came down to it, he was mostly human. Mostly. His litany of titles didn’t matter anymore.

“Yeah,” Adam rolled his eyes, forcing a smile onto his face, “I mean. I wasn’t raised by ethereal Dumb and Dumber.”

Warlock laughed – a true, deep thing. It was one of Adam’s favourite sounds in the whole universe.

“No, I suppose that you weren’t. Still. They did _try _their best.”

Adam had heard stories. He wasn’t entirely sure that Warlock’s upbringing had been…well, the best of anything, but it had certainly been interesting and it had made him the person he was today and that was the person Adam loved, so he was happy to stick with it.

The silence fell again. After a few moments, Dog trotted into the room and jumped onto the bed. Nearly twenty years and he looked just as much the puppy as when Adam had found him. He ruffled the Hellhounds fur and was met with a little yip and a content looking dog.

“Sing me a lullaby.”

He wasn’t sure where it had come from, the small plea that left Adam’s lips. Warlock had a nice singing voice. He was in the choir which – mysteriously – had started to hold their performances outside of Church ground (Adam didn’t think it was apt to have the Anti-Christ entering a place of worship like that, but he’d wanted to hear Warlock sing).

Warlock shifted, humming and then a nod. He settled them down more, Adam’s head on his chest, his hand in Adam’s hair.

“_Go to sleep and dream of pain-“_

Adam frowned

“-_Doom an darkness, blood and brains.-”_

And then felt a tiny, tiny smile work it’s way onto his lips. Oh, fucking hell. A _lullaby. _And when did one hear such things? In the first eleven years of their life of course. And who did Warlock spend those eleven years with?

_“-sleep so well my darling boy, you will rule when earths destroyed.”_

Adam managed to lay still for about thirty seconds before he started laughing. Really laughing. God, in his own way, Warlock never once had failed to cheer him up. Not once. He couldn’t help it, he was wheezing, running out of breath, laughing so hard and pressing each giggle into Warlock’s skin.

“Ah. Not normal?”

Warlock was still learning, a little bit. What was and wasn’t normal. He was mostly there. But with childhood things like lullabies…oh, Adam should have realised. But he was so glad that he hadn’t.

“_That _was what Uncle Crow used to sing you to sleep with?” Adam was still laughing, great peels of it.

And Adam’s laugh was contagious (maybe it was his boyish charm, or maybe it was the anti-Christ thing) and so when he laughed, so did Warlock and both of them – men nearing their thirties – were in hysterics before much longer.

“Well! I always thought it was fine! Nanny never shied away from gore. Of course, Brother Francis did but— I mean, what did your parents sing you lullabies about?”

“Sweet dreams! Going to sleep!”

“Oh!” More laughter, from both of them.

“Your childhood was ridiculous. Oh my god.”

It took a while for either of them to calm down enough to settle again.

“Warlock,” Adam murmured, reaching to take Warlock’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “Don’t you ever, ever change, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And when they went to sleep all nightmares were forgotten.

-///-

Two weeks later, Uncle Zira got a phone call from a laughing Adam about Warlock’s childhood lullaby.

The exclamation of indignant outrage – _That’s not how you raise a _child! – and the worried little shriek that followed that could be heard down the end of the phone line was enough to send both Adam and Warlock into a fit of hysterics again.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta this time we slaughter vaguely downwards like Crowley himself. 
> 
> I wrote this all in one go instead of sleeping because I needed some established relationship Adam/Warlock and also I saw a gif set of Warlock's lullaby and wondered how Adam would react to hearing it. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life if you have the time and enjoyed what you read!


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